


Ties that bind

by ABitNotGoodieBag



Category: Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes is a little shit, Captain Falcon - Freeform, Disaster flirting, Figaro is a diva, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sam Wilson is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABitNotGoodieBag/pseuds/ABitNotGoodieBag
Summary: Sam keeps finding Bucky’s hair ties where they Should Not Be
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 115
Collections: Marvel Fluff Bingo, Sambucky Bingo





	Ties that bind

**1.**

Sam wanted nothing more than to clean himself in solitude and sing loud (and terribly off-key) Motown hits. It was a rare moment that Sam was able to luxuriate in the shower without having to worry about rationing the hot water. Two grown men in one house shouldn’t use as much hot water as they do, but Bucky did not understand the concept of a short shower and had a tendency to make their water heater work overtime.

Sam didn’t have the heart to curtail Bucky’s extended showers, as he seemed to be so content afterwards, so when he had the chance to have his own quality time, he made sure to take it. Bucky hadn’t come back the previous night, no doubt off on some strange SHIELD side quest so Sam had the whole house to himself.

Sam was determined to treat himself, so not only did he bring his bluetooth speaker with him into the shower, but he also dabbed some of his homemade beard mask onto his beard and after a bit of thought, added some to his face as well before he began to tinker with the water temperature. As Sam waited the requisite 3 minutes, he grabbed a fresh washcloth from their linen closet and decided he was in a Toni Braxton mood.

He got in the shower, already crooning ‘You’re Making Me High.’ The steam from the scalding water filled the room, opening Sam’s pores and clearing his sinuses. He washed the mask from his face and beard, settling for humming as he removed all traces of residue. 

“ _ And in my mind I feel, I think I might be obsessed. The very thought of you makes me want to get undressed _ .” Sam’s thoughts drifted towards his housemate as he sang, thinking of Bucky’s tendency to wear as few clothes as possible while in the house. Sam’s got eyes and Bucky was built like a brick house especially to distract Sam Wilson from everything.

Sam had embraced the steam for long enough as the initial notes to ‘Un-Break My Heart’ trailed lazily through the bathroom. He made to grab for the exfoliating gloves he kept on a hook suctioned to the tile of their small-ish shower stall and was baffled when only one came away in his hand. He pulled at the second glove, frowning as he saw that it was attached to the hook with something small and dark. Closer inspection showed Sam that it was a hair tie. Sam did not sport enough hair to utilize hair ties and Figaro damn sure didn’t use them, seeing as he had no thumbs and didn’t take showers. This left only one suspect.

“BARNES!” Sam’s deeply annoyed shout completely erased the light mood of his shower and once he untangled the glove from it’s hair-tie captivity he quickly gave himself a good scrubbing, muttering angrily to himself about needing separate bathrooms and pondered (not for the first time) looking for a bigger place.

He finished his shower, dressed himself quickly and was making his way back to his room when he crashed into the (shirtless, as usual) glove-bander himself. “What the fuck, Barnes?” Sam asked, irritated.

Bucky looked back in confusion. “You ran into me, Tweety.”

“I mean why the fuck would you tie my glove to the hook?!” Sam knew he probably looked a bit nuts. “Is a man’s bath glove not sacred? What do we have in this world if not the sanctity of our toiletries?”

Bucky looked alarmed until Sam’s words sunk in and he began to snicker. “I kept knocking them over, and I didn’t want them to get all over the floor so I secured them so I wouldn’t keep jostling them.” Bucky looked down at Sam through his lashes in the most infuriating way. “I’m sorry, Sammy.” 

Sam stood there in the hallway and felt his irritation slip away despite his best efforts to hold onto it. Bucky batted his eyes some more and Sam knew he was done for. “It’s all good, Barnes.” Sam sighed.

Bucky’s grin faded a bit at Sam’s resigned tone. “I’m serious, Sam. I thought it’d be helpful.”

Figaro chose that very moment to wind himself between their legs meowing for his breakfast.

“Figs says ‘fur-give me, Pops, you know Bucky was trying to be a good guy.’” Bucky said, imitating a cartoon cat voice.

Sam reached down to pat Figaro and rolled his eyes on his way back up. “Sounded more like a ‘Why hasn’t that weird bum fed me instead of yapping it up in the hallway’ to me.”

They headed towards the kitchen, Figaro bounding ahead, yowling in impatience.

“What’s that?” Sam said, pretending to translate the hungry meows. “‘Bum should cook?’” Sam looked pensive for a moment as he opened a can of Fancy Feast and tipped it into Figaro’s dish. “I think you’re onto something, Figs.” 

Bucky just laughed and made his way to the fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs and some cheese. Sam reached past him and grabbed the last of their spinach to Bucky’s amused brow.

“It’s like you don’t believe in green foods.” Sam sighed, shaking the container of produce.

Bucky grabbed the spinach and was soon well on his way to making a couple of omelettes for the two of them.

Sam hummed in contentment as he watched Bucky and Figaro soon jumped in his lap and started purring in contentment. Sam scratched behind his ears and inhaled the scent of their breakfast. Bucky soon slid the food onto plates and grabbed glasses and the last of their OJ as well while Sam observed, trapped under his purring cat.

“Your food, your majesty.” Bucky said, bowing as he set Sam’s plate down in front of him.

Sam smirked and inclined his head while Figaro raised his head, sniffing at the omelette with interest. “Thank you kindly.”

Bucky flopped onto the stool next to Sam and attacked his food like he was starving. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Bucky’s enthusiasm and Figaro, disliking Sam’s movement, vacated his lap in disgust.

Bucky smiled at the feline diva and his antics. “I guess his majesty wasn’t impressed after all.”

Sam looked affronted that Bucky was referring to Figaro as royalty over himself and stuck his tongue out before taking a bite of his meal. “I guess you’ll have to keep trying to gain the good Prince’s favor. How tragic.”

Bucky snorted and reached out to steal a bit of Sam’s food. Not one to give Bucky an inch, Sam used his fork to block the attempt and flashed a victorious grin. “Not today, Buckaroo. You gotta be quicker than that!”

“But I’m a growing boy!” Bucky whined, still trying to get at Sam’s plate. He pulled out the big guns when he pouted and batted his eyes. Sam was forced to share the last bit of omelette in the face of such an effective offense.

“Geez, you baby. Take it.” Sam said, chuckling. “You know the puppy face gets me every time.”

By the time Bucky finished the last bite, Sam had forgotten all about his vexing shower.

* * *

**2.**

Sam was a tad hungover. Never one to say no to drinks after the mandatory monthly Avenger’s meetings, Sam, Bucky, Thor and Luke Cage had gone back to his Hell’s Kitchen bar and promptly gotten wasted. Well, Sam got wasted, everyone else was enhanced and probably just got pleasantly buzzed. No Sam absolutely does not have a chip on his shoulder about his tolerance, not even a little bit.

His head felt like it was full of rocks and dryer lint and he stumbled as he made his way into the bathroom to splash water on his face. Staring at himself in the mirror, Sam grimaced. He looked terrible and unfortunately he felt as bad as he looked.

Shutting off the bathroom light, Sam shuffled down the hall toward the kitchen, needing to simultaneously eat and vomit. He reached the kitchen, meeting Figaro on his way in (seems he wasn’t the only one looking for breakfast). Sam dutifully fed his spoiled cat and debated trying for anything more than water after almost gagging at Figaro’s breakfast. Sam decided that cereal sounded like a safe bet and grabbed the first box on the top of their fridge (Count Chocula because apparently there weren’t any adults in their house) and the almost empty milk jug from inside of it.

A bowl and a spoon were the next order of business for the hungover hero and he gingerly moved as slowly as possible to stop the queasiness he was trying not to think about. Armed with all the necessary things to force something into his protesting stomach, Sam gingerly sat down in the least wobbly of their barstools, leaning his elbows heavily on the island due to his persistent nausea.

After a rough 30 seconds, Sam’s stomach had settled enough for him to pick up the box of sugary goodness and pour himself a restrained amount. That was the plan, at least. Instead it happened like this: Sam picked up the box of cereal, squeezing in a bit to pop open the cardboard flaps. Sam held his bowl steady and waited for the pattering of his cereal to reach his ears. The sound that actually reached his ears was the entire bag hitting his bowl a little bit too hard. The inner bag of cereal, closed haphazardly with a bright green hair tie that immediately sprang free, burst open and littered the entire counter with chocolate bits and tiny marshmallows.

Sam, who was not expecting this at all, could do nothing but watch as his meager breakfast scattered any and everywhere throughout the small kitchen. Sam could do nothing but rest his head on his arms and wait for death to claim him. The cool tiles felt good so close to Sam’s sad forehead. He spread his arms so they weren’t overlapping and the coolness intensified. He let out a small gasp of contentment, pleased when he didn’t immediately feel like vomiting.

Sam rested there in the kitchen for a moment. Well, it was supposed to be a moment. Sam’s body had other plans and he fell asleep right at the counter and all was serene until the apartment’s tranquility was shattered with a shriek of “FIGS, YOU FAT FUCK!”

Sam jolted awake, causing him to almost hurl. He closed his eyes and prayed for the spots in his vision to go away and take the lurching room with them. His prayers were not answered and to insult to injury Figaro decided Sam’s lap looked like a good place to sit, jostling him even more.

“SAM!” Bucky yelled from the hallway. “YOUR FUCKING CAT IS AN ASSHOLE!”

Sam could only moan quietly to himself and stay still to quell the room’s spinning. He heard Bucky enter the kitchen and made no move to look at him, he just let out another pitiful noise.

Figaro could sense that he had no friends in the room at the moment and abandoned Sam’s lap to scamper out of there, no doubt to take the warm spot left in Bucky’s bed.

“You ok, man?” Bucky asked softly next to Sam’s ear. “Did Figgy knock over your cereal?”

Sam had forgotten all about his aborted attempt at breakfast and replied in an even softer voice. “Figs didn’t do shit, Barnes, this cereal mess is your fault.”

“How can this possibly be my fault?” Bucky asked, indignant. Then he spotted it. “Oh.” he said.

Sam snorted and then winced and then just groaned. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’”

“Well it keeps the cereal fresher!” Bucky tried to explain. “I know you have those clips but-”

Sam cuts him off with a raised hand. “Nothing in this world matters to me right now except surviving. Fuck this cereal. It probably would’ve come back up anyway.”

Bucky’s face softened at Sam’s misery and he spoke softly, “Don’t worry, Sammy, I’ve got you.”

Minutes later, Sam was presented with a glass of cool water and a plate of banana slices and a single piece of bread before Bucky left the kitchen. He sipped at the water, feeling the soothing glide of it down his throat. The bananas seemed too daunting so he instead started with the bread. He finished half the slice and felt marginally better.

Unfortunately falling asleep at the counter had done nothing for his generally achy and sore body. Sam knew he wasn’t old by any stretch of the imagination, but he could not deny that his hangovers were getting worse with age. He managed to finish the water and eat a few pieces of banana before admitting defeat.

“You ‘bout ready to move somewhere less bright?” Bucky asked Sam lightly once he returned.

Sam nodded once and stood up slowly. They made their way into the living room where Bucky had closed the curtains and Sam immediately sank down into the couch. Bucky grabbed the fuzzy blue throw Sam had bought him for Christmas and tucked Sam in gently. He turned the TV on and set the volume at a level barely above silence and began Planet Earth II. 

He went to the bathroom to find some ibuprofen and returned with the pills and another glass of water. Sam took it gratefully and let out a satisfied sigh when he drained half the glass. “I am never going out with you assholes again.” He said ruefully.

Bucky snorted, knowing Sam would break his promise as he had the last six times he’d made it. “I don’t know why you try to keep up with Thor and Luke. It’s not a competition.”

Sam scowled. “Says the juiced up jock.”

Bucky straight up laughed at Sam’s petulance. “Look, Dinky Duck, I know my own limits and don’t go past them. As the grown man you insist that you are you should really try that.”

Sam just pouted and slumped down to watch the documentary playing before them. “You’re not the boss of me, Barnes.”

Bucky shook his head in exasperation before settling in for what promised to be a lazy day of recovery for Sam. Sam fidgeted a little until he was perfectly cocooned in his blanket, leaning slightly against Bucky. He was out cold in less than thirty minutes, smiling lightly and soaking up Bucky’s warmth.

* * *

**3.**

The day had been full of chores and housekeeping. Two grown men sharing a space had a tendency to leave the housework until the last possible moment. That morning Bucky had swept and mopped (wearing nothing but royal blue briefs and singing loudly along with Aretha, obviously trying to give Sam an ulcer) before taking out the trash on the way to a nearby SHIELD field office. Sam had begun their laundry while he worked on dusting and cataloguing exactly what essentials they needed to restock (they were down to their last two rolls of toilet paper, Figaro would soon starve, and the toothpaste had been squeezed to within a millimeter of its life).

Sam had given up trying to separate their clothes anymore. Once he woke up to Bucky rifling through his dresser looking for a t-shirt for the second time in as many days, Sam had forgone it utterly, keeping the shirts in his room, the pants in Bucky’s room and the coats and hats and things in the hall closet. Clothes were for whoever got to them first in their house and so it took Sam a few weeks to notice the pattern.

Fall was making its way into winter and that meant that the four hoodies they had between the two of them were constantly in rotation, especially for their lazy-ass runs to the corner store. Three of the hoodies originally belonged to Sam (before the whole of their wardrobe became communal), so he didn’t notice until he was unloading the dryer that he saw them all in the same place. Three of the hoodies had new adornments. His navy blue HU hoodie, faded with age, was trimmed in bright red hair ties on the ends of the frayed strings, making Sam smile at the clear attempt in coordination. He saw multicolored elastics on the pulls of his gray USAF hoodie and his red Avengers one. Bucky’s lone black hoodie with a red and green stripe across the chest that had been with him since leaving Wakanda had no embellishments, just ratty, uneven strings tied in large messy knots. 

Sam took a moment to note that strange fact before transferring the wet clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. He grabbed the basket of clean clothes and brought it to the living room to fold while he caught a few episodes of his guilty pleasure (Law and Order:SVU, Olivia was the best), Figaro falling into step behind him.

Later that evening after Bucky came home from whatever debrief SHIELD had mandated without the groceries he was supposed to stop and get, the two decided they were too lazy to shop and cook dinner. Bucky suggested they visit that new Thai place that opened up a few blocks away and Sam didn’t see a reason to object so they dressed up in their outerwear and headed out. 

Every time Sam saw Bucky in his Howard hoody, Sam couldn’t help but smile. The fact that he walked around the streets of DC with the Bison proudly displayed on his front filled Sam with warmth (and he couldn’t deny, the confused glances that Bucky got from members of the public made Sam smirk a bit). The red hair ties bounced on Bucky’s chest with every step he took and Sam was so distracted by them that he almost face planted after missing a curb.

Embarrassed, Sam kept his eyes straight ahead until they reached their destination. Luckily for them the dreary weather was keeping most people indoors and there was no wait for them and they were quickly escorted to a table near the window. Their server brought them both water and took their order with quick efficiency. Sam choked a bit when Bucky ordered nam tok but decided to enjoy the ensuing entertainment.

“I guess we’ll just get the stuff from the store when we leave?” Sam asked as they waited on their food.

Bucky grunted with a half shrug. “If we must.”   
  
“I know your previous residence was a hut with no plumbing and all, but I am very much used to wiping my ass with Charmin.” Sam said with a grin.

“Well if it’ll keep princess Pigeon quiet, then I guess that’s what we’ll do.” Bucky said magnanimously, as if accompanying Sam to the store was doing him a favor.

Sam crossed his arms in mock annoyance and saw their server approaching with their food. Sam, unlike Bucky, did not just pick things at random off of the menu was entirely too excited to see how Bucky liked his choice. The server arrived at the table and Sam slyly reached for his phone. He discreetly activated the camera while Bucky unrolled his silverware and set his napkin across his lap. Bucky took a (rather too large, in Sam’s opinion) bite of his meal. First there was silence. As his eyes watered and cried, Bucky coughed hard and his face turned strawberry red. Sam snapped a quick photo as he chuckled.

“You ok, Buckaroo?” Sam asked, his face a picture of smiling innocence.

“Why would you let me do this?” Bucky sputtered out a few minutes later after he had cleared his throat enough to both breathe and talk.

“Man, I didn’t let you do shit!” Sam said through his laughter. “I told you picking things at random is a terrible idea, maybe now you’ll listen.”

Bucky just glared at him with red eyes and cheeks.

Sam took pity on him and switched their plates. Sam was no stranger to spicy food and while nam tok wasn’t his favorite, he at least knew to eat it in smaller bites and he did sort of enjoy the burning of his tongue. He dabbed a bit at his lightly running nose and winked at Bucky who seemed personally offended that Sam wasn’t a crying mess.

“Unlike you, I am used to my food with something other than three grains of salt.” Sam couldn’t resist cracking.

Bucky huffed and finished Sam’s pad see ew in silence.

Sam sent the photo of Bucky’s red face to all of the Avengers the moment they left the restaurant.

* * *

**4.**

Sam was confused. His car was in it’s normal place, but he could tell that someone had touched it. He stood on their porch and cocked his head to the side. His brain was screaming that his vehicle had been messed with, but BeepBeep was  _ exactly _ where Sam had left her after his trip to CostCo the previous afternoon. The front wheels were just as crooked, the fallen pine needles didn’t give any indication that they’d been run over or disturbed in any way.

Sam had not gone with just any car once he took up the Captain America mantle. Sam went with his  _ Dream Car _ . Sam purchased a beautifully restored, crimson and black (absolutely  _ not _ Hot Rod red, he had some class) 1970 Plymouth RoadRunner. The car was an absolute monster and Sam had been known to spend a good chunk of time detailing it and keeping it pretty. Sam figured that after all of the shit he’d seen, that there was no reason to put off things that made him happy, and boy did this car make him happy. He remembered his father showing him all of the old muscle cars he liked as a boy before he died and always treasured those times (his dad liked the mustang the best, but Sam had always been partial to the bird-themed cars. What can he say, he likes what he likes).

Sam knew that someone touched his baby. And he was absolutely fucking sure that a certain someone was not stupid enough to touch his car (especially after absolutely  _ obliterating _ his last one). Sam made sure to pay for this one in cash upfront and carried the absolute highest amount of insurance, well, as high as an Avenger could reasonably expect to have (Sam will admit that they did go through vehicles more than the average citizen).

Deciding that he wouldn’t rest until he figured out what was different about the car he approached her cautiously. One too many bomb threats (a few of which were NOT hoaxes) had made Sam trust his gut even more. He sometimes wished he had the Parker kid’s petey-tingle or whatever the kid was calling it these days. A quick circle of the car didn’t put Sam at ease even though he couldn’t  _ see _ what was different.

He checked the trunk and the undercarriage, getting his jeans dirty in the process. He couldn’t find anything underneath the hood or underneath the seats. Nothing in the pockets in the back of the seats. He finally got in the driver’s seat, frustrated beyond belief that he couldn’t shake the feeling of something being different about his BeepBeep.

He fit perfectly in to the seat, so it hadn’t been moved. Sam growled to himself, overcome with frustration. He grabbed the steering wheel angrily and--oh! He found it! He squeezed the suede steering wheel cover and felt a strange protrusion. He ran his hands around the wheel and found three additional bumps.

Since he hadn’t blown up yet, Sam decided that removing the steering wheel cover was a safe bet. After spending the last half hour thinking that he was moments from dying in a bomb blast Sam let fly a string of curses so terrible he was surprised his mama hadn’t spontaneously appeared to wash his mouth out.

Four bright orange hair ties are wrapped around the top half of the steering wheel. Sam cannot for the life of him figure out what they’re doing there. Bucky knows how Sam feels about this car. Sam is so caught up in his thoughts and confusion that he doesn’t notice the subject of those thoughts standing right outside the passenger window. Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when Bucky knocked on the window.

“You good, Sammy?” Bucky asked, concerned.

Sam stared at him for a solid ten seconds, then gestured at the steering wheel. “Explain.” The words were tense.

“Oh,” Bucky said, ducking his head and blushing a bit. “I heard you say your hands would slip on the wheel sometimes when you turn when you were talking to your sister. I didn’t mean to pry, I just thought it’d help you stay at 10 and 2.” The explanation was so darn cute that Sam found all of his irritation leaving him yet  _ again _ . It seemed that Bucky was determined to make his life easier by any means necessary and Sam was about done trying to figure it out at this point.

“Man,” Sam began. “What are you, my fairy godmother?” He leaned his head back against the headrest.

Bucky’s confusion morphed into a smirk, “Who else is going to look after you, pigeon?”

Sam groaned at the nickname. “We were having a moment, Terminator. Look what you’ve done to it.”

“Whoops.” Bucky said, deadpan. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Going somewhere interesting?”

Sam had indeed forgotten why he had come out here in the first place, once he noticed his beloved car had been touched. He didn’t want to go back inside and just sit around though, he felt like going out and doing something out of their routine. “Why don’t you get in and find out?” He asked, leaning over and opening the passenger door for Bucky.

Bucky grinned and slid onto the long bench seat. “Take us away, Sammy.”

Sam cranked up his baby, listening to the Hemi engine growl low. He carefully replaced the steering wheel cover and placed his hands between the guides Bucky had so thoughtfully placed for him. Sam looked over at Bucky and took in his easy smile as he relaxed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Sam rolled down their windows and put on  _ Still Bill _ , they needed some soul for this ride. As he backed out of their driveway, Sam had no idea where they were going, but he knew he’d enjoy every moment of the journey as long as Bucky was on his right.

* * *

**5.**

Sam really did enjoy training exercises. Well, sometimes. Today wasn’t going in his good books, though, because he was almost dead on his feet. Bucky had kept him up all night. He didn’t hold the nightmares against the soldier at all, especially since he was just as prone to them as any of them these days. Bucky’s just had a tendency to wake up the whole house. Sam and Figaro both did their best to calm him afterwards, but Sam knew from personal experience that usually the only thing that drove the demons away was the warm light of the sun.

All of that was neither here nor there because Sam was supposed to be focused on rescuing their virtual hostages from terrorists who’d unleashed some killer robots unto the city. Sam was not supposed to be dwelling on nightmares that were not even his own.

He was across the street from the bank in which the terrorists had 13 hostages. Wanda was holding the perimeter, making sure that the killer robots didn’t advance further into the city while Sam and Bucky were attempting to infiltrate the building without tipping off the hostiles.

Sam saw a flash of light in his periphery from the side street next to the bank and once he focused on it, he saw that Bucky was signalling that he had found a way in. Sam made it to the alley and let out a low whistle as he saw Barnes point up several floors to a broken window.

“Just couldn’t resist another ride on the Sam Wilson Express, could you?” He asked quietly as he maneuvered and rose to a hover in the tight space.

Barnes just raised a brow and lifted his arms (determined to ignore Sam’s quips), ready to be carried to the window. Sam obliged him and when they landed in the small office on the fourth floor of the bank they made their way to the door to begin working out the best way to disable their targets.

“Cap, perimeter is secure and all robots have been neutralized.” Wanda’s heavily accented English came crackling into Sam’s earpiece. “Orders?”

Sam gave Wanda their location and a moment later Wanda floated in. “Looks like the hostages are on the main floor of the bank, but we don’t know where all of the hostiles are, so I’m gonna send Redwing out to see what’s what.”

Sam tapped on his bracer, calling for his well-loved drone and--

“What the fuck is this?” Sam asked, voice flat. Redwing’s tail-end had been covered in a rainbow of colors. Sam didn’t even need to look any closer to know that they were Bucky’s damn hair ties. He has not had enough sleep or coffee for this and Sam was just done.

Bucky snorted before schooling his face into an innocent expression. “Redwing is a pretty bird, Sam. Just like his mom.”

“Nope.” Sam got up (leaving the beautifully--absurdly--decorated redwing hovering) and walked out into the hallway and made his way to a balcony where he shot the two targets holding the hostages. Bucky was at his six and he took out the one above them. They were making their way down the stairs, back to back, when their virtual construct blew up around them.

Sam and Bucky stood in the middle of the second largest training room, Wanda and Redwing several yards behind them looking at them (a bit too judgmentally in Sam’s opinion). Sam threw his hands up and left. He headed straight to his room in the compound without another word.

He had just managed to take off his wings, boots and goggles before Bucky was banging on his door. Sam sighed and contemplated ignoring him, but Sam knew that Bucky was stubborn enough to stay out there all night, the asshole.

Sam opened the sliding door just as Bucky was about to start banging with his left hand (and wouldn’t that just do wonders to the poor metal?). Bucky abruptly dropped both hands to his sides and looked at Sam in concern.

Sam didn’t want to do this now, he was sleep-deprived and keyed up for a reason he hasn’t really examined himself yet. “Can I help you?”

Bucky held out his right hand and Sam saw that he had brought Redwing back, without all of the extra layers. “I didn’t mean any harm by it, I thought you’d laugh.” Bucky said softly.

Sam did laugh as he claimed his mechanical wingman which further confused Bucky. He felt as if the last two days had lasted an entire week and Redwing being ‘pretty like his mom’ was just too much. He moved to put Redwing back in with his wings and said, “Babe, I’m too tired for life right now. It was funny.”

Bucky was silent when Sam turned to look at him, finished with the drone. “What?”

Bucky came closer, right into Sam’s personal bubble, still not saying a word. Sam raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Wanna try that again, Wilson?” Bucky’s voice was lower and Sam felt faint at their nearness and Bucky’s damn (voice, smell, face, body heat)  _ everything _ .

Sam internally rewound the last two minutes and mentally slapped himself. Seeing as how he’d already put it out in the universe and Bucky wasn’t running away, Sam was (still) too tired to be upset. Eyebrow still raised, he said, “I  _ said _ : Babe, I’m-”

Sam didn’t get to finish his sarcastic reply as Bucky was kissing him. Bucky’s lips were touching his and Sam must surely be dreaming. He will cuss if his alarm goes off and he has to do this terrible training day all over again. He threw his arms around Bucky’s neck and kissed back eagerly, because if this was a lucid dream he was going to enjoy the hell out of it.

Bucky pulled back slightly, laughing, “So not a mistake then?”

“Obviously not a dream, you would be naked and shutting up,” Sam muttered to no one before Bucky distracted his thoughts by licking a stripe from his neck to his earlobe, sucking the latter into his mouth.

The noise Sam made could have been categorized as a moan (or a shriek depending on which one of them you asked) and he pulled them both further into the room, determined to get horizontal before he passed out from either exhaustion or (suddenly requited) horniness. 

Neither Sam nor Bucky were seen for the rest of the day.

* * *

**+1.**

Sam yawned as he shuffled into the compound’s kitchen and went straight to the coffee pot, praying there was some left. He was in luck as there was just enough left to fill the largest mug he could find. Once his coffee was creamed, he joined the rest of the Avengers at the table and reached for a muffin from the tray someone (probably Rhodes, he was considerate like that) had brought.

Bucky’s sleepy form plodded to the table and he grunted in appreciation as Sam handed him the half-full mug of coffee he’d made. Sam knocked Bucky’s shoulder with his own and Bucky dropped his head on Sam’s shoulder in answer (covering Sam’s upper torso in loose, wavy hair) once he’d gulped down the rest of the coffee.

“Why do you people wake up so early?” Bucky whined.

“It’s 9:30, Barnes.” Rhodes said, unimpressed at Bucky’s displeasure.

“Last I checked, that was before noon, which is a more reasonable hour for being conscious.” Bucky mumbled, determined to stay grumpy.

Rhodes snorted. “You sound like Peter.”

“How dare you, Quill is an idiot.” Bucky said, affronted.

“Not  _ that _ Peter, dumbass. Parker. The  _ actual _ teenager.”

Bucky’s frown deepened even further because he was certainly  _ not _ a chipper, happy, talkative teenager, he was a grown man who just enjoyed resting his worn-out body sometimes. “Why is everyone on my ass all of a sudden?” He wondered aloud, shaking his hair out of his face.

Sam giggled softly at the word ‘ass’ and Bucky smirked up at him. Valkyrie rolled her eyes at the two of them and set her bottle of whatever she was drinking (not coffee, that’s for sure) down on the table hard enough to rattle silverware. “You two are sickeningly chummy this morning.” She observed them with narrowed eyes.

Bucky whipped his head around to glare at her, tossing his hair back again when his glare seemed to have no effect at all on the Asgardian. Bruce cocked his head and looked at both Bucky and Sam closely. “You know, she’s right.”

“Thank you for your support, dear greenie.” Valkyrie said sarcastically as she took a fortifying swig of what smelled like rocket fuel. “After what I heard of yesterday’s training exercise, I would have expected more--not this.”

“You gossips!” Sam accused with his mouth full of the last of his muffin. Crumbs flew everywhere and everyone looked disgusted except Bucky who looked at Sam in amusement.

“Look at these guys,” Bucky said, shaking his head and then tucking all the hair he shook loose back behind his ear. “Just bumping gums all over the place. For shame.”

“Oh my God, babe. Just put it up already!” Sam said, exasperated as he took the black elastic from his wrist and handed it over.

“Whatever, mom.” Bucky griped as he pulled it into a messy bun and stuck his tongue out at Sam.

The rest of the table was shocked silent. Bruce and Rhodey’s jaws dropped and Valkyrie just stared at them with a brow raised. Wanda remained unaffected, simply going back to her magazine. “Well that explains a lot.”

Sam ignored her and proceeded to give Bucky a loud smacking kiss on the cheek. “See? The morning is better already, isn't it Barnesy?”

“Absolutely not. I draw the line at cutesy names.” Val got up from the table, draining her bottle as she went, leaving them with Bruce, Rhodes and Wanda.

“We don’t have to take this, Willie.” Bucky said, pulling Sam close and kissing the top of his head as Sam laughed at the butchering of his surname. “They don’t deserve our shmoop.”

Bruce kept glancing between them trying to gauge whether or not they were serious. “Are you just messing with us?” 

Sam looked up at Bucky and grinned. “Are we, babe?”

He was answered by Bucky getting up, picking Sam up and throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Bucky kissed the side of Sam’s backside and headed out of the kitchen. He paused at the doorway, looked back at everyone and slapped a laughing Sam’s ass, the sound echoing through the kitchen.

“Nah.”

Sam’s laughter echoed after them.

**Author's Note:**

> Sambucky bingo square: Wearing each others clothes  
> Marvel Fluff Bingo: Singing in the shower
> 
> Bucky is a damn menace. Sam Wilson definitely went to Howard in my head and you will pry that hc from my cold, dead hands.


End file.
